Site Placement

Just a quick note about my site. I´ll be going to Angonia, Tete in central Mozambique for the next two years. I´ll be teaching english at a secondary school and living on an IFP campus (teacher training school). I have a roommate named Arielle that I´m excited to get to know, and inheriting a dog. It´s in the mountains right on the Malawi border so it´ll be cool and I´ll get to experience another culture as well. New mailing address is coming soon, so don´t send anything anymore to my old address. Love you all and happy thanksgiving!!

15 November 2010

Well, training is winding down way sooner than I thought. I’m through my first week of Model School with one more to go. Model school is where we bribe children to come in during their summer break and let us teach them classes with the promise of free cookies and a certificate at the end of everything. As far as teaching training went, as of week 5 I had taught one section of a 10 minute lesson with three other people involved. Now all of a sudden I’m supposed to teach a 45 minute lesson solo?!...right. We practiced in front of our fellow PCTs first and I crashed and burned. The hard concept here is that they do not take active notes nor do they get any sort of text book so what ever I write on the board is what they are going to be learning and studying from. My lesson plan was a mess and I got about 10 minutes into it and had no idea so I just quit and re-grouped. Luckily I think I was able to re-group quickly and the next day I presented a clear and concise, well-organized lesson on the muscle system and exercise. Big relief.

            I did our very first class of rules and an intro to biology on Monday to 4 students which happened to be a fellow PCTs host sisters so it went great (they were already accustomed to crazy Portuguese). Then on Wednesday I did my muscle lesson with no major problems. I now feel like I can actually do this job. Although thinking about it, going from 4 students to 60 is going to suck. I’ll worry about that in February J

            Thursday we find out where our site placement will be. This is going to be where I’m living for the next 2 years (by the time I post this I will know where I’m going) and it’s a big deal. I could be living in a teeny tiny village with no electricity and no other volunteers in a 6 hour radius, or I could be living in a pretty good sized city with electricity and running water and a fellow PCV for a roommate. It all depends. My specific requests were: 1) safety whether that be living very close to other houses or with a roommate; 2) I would like to live on a school campus to be more accessible to students; 3) I would not like to visit Maputo very much because it’s so big and crazy; 4) If I am opening a new site (aka There has never been a foreigner in that town before) I would need a site-mate or someone very close for sanity purposes. I guess I’ll see what I end up with.

            This weekend I’ll be heading to a beach right by Xai-Xai for “mental health break”. It will be our last time to hang out as a group before swearing in and going to our sites. Once we go we could easily not see each other again for the next 2 years. Crazy to think that this little comfort zone I’ve created here is about to change once again. After mental health break we have one more week of model school and the next week is a whole bunch of administrative stuff, swear-in and then we fly away to our regional capitals. That means I have less than two weeks left here with my host family…which may break my heart. It’s so great. On the other hand I’m excited to be in control of what I’m eating when, and especially how much I’m eating. It’s about to be a whole new adventure, so wish me luck!!

I told the witch doctor....

One of the most unbelievable moments thus far, get excited:

This past Saturday we had a language class field trip to visit the “curandeiro” aka “natural doctor” aka “witch doctor”. First of all we meet to get driven there in a P.C. land cruiser because it’s located way deep in Barrio A in the mountains. We pile in chapa-style (we had 14 people in a place that would squish in 10 in the states) and head down into the barrio (aka neighborhood).

I had mentioned to my Mãe the night before that I was going to see the curandeiro in the morning. I was slightly worried about her reaction because she is a stout Catholic, and she seemed to be fine with it. She asked what a curandeiro was to which I replied “natural doctor” and she was satisfied with that answer.

We finally hike down to the huts where they do their business and all have to pile into one. It’s a round mud hut with a thatched roof about 8 feet in diameter. About half of that space is taken up with bottles filled with who knows what (we asked—it’s a secret), animal skins hanging on the walls and black, red and white kapulanas hanging up everywhere (the colors of the curandeiro). In this little tiny space we all pack in once again chapa-style (that’s right, all 14 of us). Only in Mozambique would you think there’s no more room—the Mozambican language teachers just kept piling in. We sit there waiting for about 10 minutes. I can see out the doorway, and I notice a familiar face: Fuse (pronounced foo-C).

Fuse is my mae’s nephew. I met him in my first week here. He’s super patient and has some of the best Portuguese of anyone I’ve met yet. My favorite moment was the first time he met me my first week here “Este é um TEL-E-VI-SOR”. Yeah, I realize that’s a TV, thanks.  I may not speak the language but I’m not oblivious. Just the weekend before this field trip to the curandeiro he taught me the word for “lukewarm”. Main point of this tangent is that I Fuse comes to my house and I chat with him on a regular basis.

Back to the hut:

            I notice Fuse out the doorway and my first thought is “what in the heck is he doing here?” Next thing I know he comes into the hut and sits down, bites a stick and spits it into this bag of sea shells and starts explaining the process of a consultation with the curandeiro. This is when it hits me: Fuse IS THE curandeiro. Coming from a western view point, you imagine this super gray and wrinkly old man with some sort of crazy bone and feather outfit on. Instead in walks Fuse, late 20s wearing cargo khaki shorts and a G-Unit t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. Unbelievable.

I am trying to control my shock and let Emily know at the same time that this is the Fuse I always talk about. Emily tries to control her shock as well. I’m packed in the back row of people so it’s a few minutes until he sees me. He just says “oh, uma conhecida” which roughly translates into “hey, I know you” and I say “hola” in wonder. He finishes his speech, we ask him some questions and then he’s off to the next group.

            How my Mãe failed to mention that it would be Fuse when I told her I was going to visit the curandeiro in Barrio A I have no idea. Upon leaving, I explain my shock to everyone and the reason I got that special shout-out in the hut. I get home and am like “Mãe, why would you not warn me that it was Fuse?!?” and she just laughs “It was Fuse that you went to see?! Hahaha” with no real response. Such is life here.

So, that’s my story of the visit to the curandeiro, and if you know me well (or ask my fellow PCTs) I won’t get over it for awhile. Crazy times in Mozambique J

My first Marriage Proposal

So, it’s pretty common here to get a lot of attention as a white woman (especially with blonde hair). There’s the common pick up line of “we will meet again, and it will be a sign” or “I want to know you” and there are random marriage proposals (and other proposals) offered daily on the streets. I have, however, been initiated to the Mozambican male way. It happened something like this:

I was hiking to where the 3 borders of Moz, South Africa and Swaziland meet, and Emily, Jon and I were waiting for the rest of our group at the border before we went on our hike (a good 3 hours round trip). We were in search of a soda to take to drink at the top, and that’s where he was. I have no idea what is name is, so I’ll just refer to him as “Ernest”. He sees us and holds up his arms and yells (FYI this is all in portuguese) “Welcome to Mozambiqur!” to which Jon replies “We’ve been here for months now”. Ernest is wearing a border patrol uniform, and they are notoriously flirty and sketchy. He comes over to talk to us and tells us multiple times about the 3 border point (obviously Ernest has been going all night at this little bar at the border). We introduce ourselves and of course I get the common confusion of my name being “Portuguese” and having no ties to Brazil or Portugal. Ernest then asks Jon which one of us he is going to marry to which Jon replies “neither”. Ernest says that he would recommend marrying me.

Jon goes to get his soda and Ernest goes away only to return about 30 seconds later, approaching me directly this time. “So, you know I’m not married. And I’m available next week if you’d like to marry me” to which I reply “No thank you” and he laughs and walks off. Jon comes back, and Ernest attempts to reason with us. He tells Jon “I’d like to marry her” to which I interrupt with “I came here to teach, not to get married” and Jon says “she’s not going to marry you”. Then Ernest goes something like “I don’t think you’re understanding. The first president of FREMILO married an American to show that there was no tension among races, and my goal in life is to follow in his footsteps. I saw you all walking toward me and felt a shock from God.” Jon still maintains “I don’t think she’s going to marry you”. Ernest “You’re not understanding me. There’s this American woman living in Gaza province that married a Mozambican. I saw her wearing a kapulana and carrying a bunch of bananas from the machamba on her head. They do it all the time” (random shout out to this girl: Thanks a lot) At this point we’ve been waiting for 20 minutes and he’s about to go for his third attempt at reasoning me into marrying him, so I suggest that Emily and I walk back up and meet the people that are coming which we do.

And that’s how it happened: my first ever marriage proposal. Somehow not quite how I imagined it…..

Mozambican Funny-isms

-When there’s a storm with lightning you have to cover your mirror. When asked why my Mae thought I was joking and never answered (according to my language teacher it’s because the mirrors can attract lightning.

-If I don’t cook when I go to site and eat sandwiches all day, my body will dry up so it’s important that I learn.

-Mozambicans are crazy about being clean, but the buildings and houses haven’t been maintained in the last 30 years. The graffiti in schools is out of control. Paint would go a long way here.

-There are free roaming goats and chickens everywhere, and everyone seems to know which belongs to who, and they definitely know if they’re missing. I see no order.

-Small children are running free in the streets all the time, no parent/babysitter to be seen.

-being able to turn on a computer makes me a technology expert here

-they drive on the left side of the road, and if I teach English I’ll be teaching British English

-no matter if you live in a little grass roofed hut, you’ll have a giant amp to blare music from

-they were blasting Eminem “shake that” at my mom’s church party. I was sitting next to the pastor drinking beer.

-they ask you for everything all the time. Like “can I have your water?” or even “can I have your hair?” or “can I have your nose ring?”

-Amanda is a latin based name so it’s common in Portuguese too. Therefore everyone is confused that I have no Portuguese family or background.

-Amanda is also the name of a butter brand here.

-A woman wrapped in a kapulana (traditional clothing) will be walking down the street with a giant crate on balanced on her head and a cell phone at her ear

-everyone here has a maid and doesn´t believe me that it is not common in the states.

November 6, 2010

Five weeks of training and 3 more to go…time is going fast. I’ve been keeping a daily journal and at first I was filling up 3 and 4 pages because everything was new and different. Now things are getting to be more and more normal, which is strange considering how short of a time I’ve been here. I took my LPI (language proficiency interview) and tested at the level they want for being able to swear in (which is Intermediate-mid). Less than 2 months ago I knew how to count to 10 in Portuguese. Now I can tease the kids that follow us in the street, and chat with my Mãe when the power is out (which happens whenever the wind blows or there is a slight rain). It’s really crazy to me. And there are some words in Portuguese that just work their way into our English because they’re more convenient.

This last week we got to work in the garden and learn how to grow bio-intensive gardens where you get a whole lot more out of a whole lot less land. Bonus it was all at my house since I live on a giant plantation (by Namaacha standards anyways). It was great to be outside all day and not sitting in classes. This next week is dedicated to planning model school (which is where students come in for fake classes to help us practice teaching in Portuguese and see how our methods work with locals before we actually go and teach at a real school). Then week 7 we have model school, then a 3 day weekend where I plan to go visit the beach with a ton of other volunteers and then another week of model school. Right before our 3 day weekend (on the 18^th) I’m supposed to find out where I’ll be living for the next 2 years. I’m excited to find out and also see who is going to be placed around me. After the second week of model school we have a week of activities before finally swearing in as real volunteers on Dec 3^rd. Then it’s off to our provincial capitals and our new lives (again). It’s coming to an end so fast.

Just wanted to send a shout out to those of you messaging me online. It means a lot and sorry I sometimes can’t respond. If anyone has any questions they want me to address in the blog just let me know. Now that things are starting to get “normal” it’s harder to think of what to write.

Reflections on Mozambique

Now that I’ve been here for about a month, I just wanted to write an entry to try and portray how I feel about Mozambique which is an emotion I find hard to describe. Sometimes I just get this feeling in my chest and tear up in awe of this experience. This country is still recovering from 26 years of war. First, the Portuguese left in 1975 after about 10 years of war. I remember my shuttle driver in Philadelphia talking about growing up in Africa (not in Moz) and watching on the news as the Portuguese left, smashing toilets, destroying buildings and planting land mines without regard on their way. They are still trying to find all the landmines—there was a news story last week on one exploding in near Maputo (the capital). And since the Portuguese made up the majority of educated teachers and medical people in the country, Mozambicans were left with a major shortage of teachers and doctors which they are still trying to recover today.

Once the Portuguese were gone, a Civil war continued between the two predominant political parties that still exist today. Over the next 16 years war continued, with schools, hospitals and road systems destroyed in its wake. A peace agreement was signed in the mid-1990s, finally ending the years of destruction.

Now with this history in mind, it really makes me think. Just tonight as we were watching the news, my host mom brought it up a little. She was talking about when the war was going on she would get off work at 5 p.m. and head straight home with her one grandchild she was raising tied to her back (the common way they carry their babies here) and dragging the other by the hand with her bundle of food on her head (also very common here J ). By 6 p.m. the whole family would be inside with all the windows and doors shut and zero noise and no lights. Not the TV, radio, nothing until about 10 p.m. She was talking about hiding out in one room of the house with two of her children plus two grandchildren and being completely silent, listening to people running outside and the gunfire going on. My host “nephew” (who is more like a brother since he’s 21) was included in this. If I had been born here I would have grown up in this environment until I was 5. Everyone that I’m going to be working with (majority, anyways) grew up in a time of war. My language teacher right now is 29…He was 10 or 11 before war in his country stopped. I can’t even imagine that, and I cannot help but be grateful for the luck I had to be born in the country that I was born in.

On top of everything there is now a war against HIV/AIDS that they have to fight in order to develop. The newest data that just came out this month is that the prevalence rate of HIV here is 11.5% of the population. In the U.S. its around 2-3%.  It is something that needs to get under control through education and behavior change, and is another thing that I’m here to try and help with.

The U.S. has had over 200 years to develop; Mozambique has had less than 20. It’s actually impressive that they have the infrastructure they do. And it’s a humbling experience to be here and trying to help them develop further. It’s nice to have moments like this and realize that I did make the right decision in coming here. The hard times of my experience will come I know, but for now I’m amazed that I was given this opportunity.

NGOMA time

A word on NGOMA time (and no, I do not know what it stands for):

This is a one-hour talent-type show meant to help us have some fun and relax after an entire day of training and getting lectured at. I love watching it, and really enjoy it usually. Where I start having a problem is when we are forced to come up with something to present as a language class every week. Now, I’m all for jumping on the lead of another talented person who can play the guitar or choreograph a dance. I’ll follow along. The problem is that language groups are organized by your field of expertise. Therefore all the science people (me included) are in the same groups together. Last week in my group of 4 we had nothing. No ideas whatsoever.  There is a reason most of us majored in the sciences and not in the arts. There are those exceptions, however in my group of 4 none of us were talented, and neither is my new language group of 3 people. Other science groups had similar problems coming up with something entertaining. Another big problem with this is that all of our language teachers are Mozambican. When you’re from Africa you come out of the womb singing, chanting and dancing. Seriously, Mandy’s 3 year old little brother can dance JUST LIKE Michael Jackson. It’s what they do here. So I’m pretty sure that my language teacher just thinks we’re being difficult.

In my first language group, we ended up making a little poem in Portuguese just to make our language teacher happy. Fortunately for us we were not on the list to perform nor were we called out at the end of NGOMA time so we didn’t actually have to go. Then when I got switched to my new language group and we still had no ideas we decided to join up with my old language group, use the poem, and also act it out to involve 2 more people. This last week time ran out before our group got to go so I have yet to perform and I’m fine with that. Not only are there 15 language groups, but the professors and other people from the community come and perform too so it ends up going at least 2 hours. Quite honestly after a HUB day I want to go and hang out with my friends, have a beer, and unwind after being talked at all day long. Ever since NGOMA time has started we haven’t been able to do that considering it goes until 6:30 pm and our curfew is 7 pm.

In conclusion, I enjoy NGOMA time and think its fun to watch people who are far more talented than me. I just think we should leave it to the people who want to perform and who are good at performing and as an added bonus it would help us stick to our 1 hour time limit.